


Sufficient

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AtS S5. Illyria is tired of Spike being distracted.Beta'd by Gort. Who's awesome.Archived at EF and AO3 only.





	

“Give me a bloody minute.” Spike leaned his head against the wall of the training room. He had no hope of ever getting a solid hit in on Illyria, let alone beating her, but the physical pain of their sparring matches left him little room to think about anything else.

_Buffy, sitting on her couch, smiling and laughing with her friends._

That smile. Christ, he missed it so blasted much.  He had to get his mind on a different track or he’d be a useless pile of mush for the rest of the day.

_Buffy, her eyes closed, her teeth biting hard on her lower lip, and her breasts jiggling as he plowed into her tight…_

That wasn’t helping, either.

He sighed, shut his eyes, and turned around to lean his back against the wall. It felt like he had a cracked rib, and at least one molar was loose. Nothing some of that posh, exotic animal blood Angel kept around wouldn’t fix up right quick.

Might as well get back to it. He opened his eyes and yelped, finding Illyria’s face an inch from his own.

She cocked her head slightly to the side. “Why do you torture yourself?”

“Pardon?” Torture? He didn’t torture himself. Not on purpose, anyway. He wasn’t sodding Angel.

_His Slayer: strong thighs clamped against his ears while she keened and rode his face, her intoxicating juices dripping…_

“You have feelings of grief for a female that is still alive.” Illyria tilted her head to the other side.

“Miss her, is all,” Spike muttered.

“You also have an intense desire to mate with this female.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike exploded. “That’s private. You don’t just go around saying things about stuff like that.” He raked a hand through his hair.

“I have grown tired of it. It distracts you.”

“I’m glad the whole world spins around you, but it’s not something I can just turn on and off at a whim. Not the pain and not the other damned part.”

“Why are you not with this female you desire?”

“It’s bloody complicated, you blue twit. She thinks I died a proper hero. Shall I go strolling in and tell her: sorry, it was all a practical joke by the Powers That Bloody Be? Can’t ever be less in her eyes if she never sees me again, can I?” His chest heaved with suppressed emotions. “She probably wouldn’t want me anyway. Knowing Buffy, she’s already leading some other poor wanker around by the short and curlies.” His shoulders slumped and he looked away from Illyria’s too-perceptive eyes.

Illyria put a couple yards of space between them and held up a finger while her face went slack.  After a few seconds she reanimated with a purse of her lips. “This female does not have anyone she is mating with currently, nor has she in two years.”

His heart lurched and his stomach dropped out from under him. Two years. Not since him. Oh god. His throat closed up and all he could get out was a choked wheeze.

“Currently she is crying for you.”

“Crying?” he managed to gasp.

“Crying. This is what you call the action of water coming from the eyes as the result of emotion?”

Spike nodded, unable to get any air past the lump in his throat. Not Buffy. She couldn’t be crying over him. He was a nearly year-dead memory. The poor, silly sod who’d died for unrequited love.

“She has pain, like you.” There was a pause. “I am still not familiar with this emotion love. Why does the absence of the person it is felt for cause humans to make water from their eyes?”

He shrugged. His mind wasn’t processing right. Had Illyria said Buffy loved him? Enough to still cry with grief over his death? Oh…oh…what had he done? Left her to her misery because he’d not been able to fathom what she really felt? He’d done what he had always accused her of doing: not believing that her feelings were real.

Spike stumbled forward a step. He had to get to her. Make her feel better, even if that meant letting her dust him for having caused her one moment of pain.

“She also wishes to mate with you.”

His mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times. That was…good. He’d rather hear it from the girl herself, though.

“She has affection for your male appendage.”

His mind shut down and he stood frozen.

Illyria crossed her arms. “I will not put up with your lack of concentration when there is an obvious solution. You will mate with this female a sufficient number of times daily to keep your mind focused when we practice physical confrontations.”

“Right,” Spike finally managed to squeak. “Small problem with that scenario.”

“What obstacle is present?” Illyria’s perpetually thin lips tightened down further.

“Where’s the girl?” He hoped she knew. It’d cut out a lot of time if he could go straight to Buffy instead of having to search. Anything would work: a landmark, address, GPS coordinates, longitude and latitude, even a hand drawn map on a bit of soggy napkin.

“I will bring her here and you will start now.” Illyria waved her hand and…

Holy Fuck. That was Buffy. Naked. With suds in her hair. Her arms were raised as she scrubbed her scalp. Bubbles slipped down the slope of her breasts to catch on her pink nipples. More were sliding down her abdomen to the wet curls at the apex of…

Spike slammed his eyes shut, but it was too late. His body had decided of its own accord that all the hours and heartache between the last time he’d seen her naked and right now didn’t amount to a hill of beans. His cock shot up and stiffened in his jeans and every nerve ending he had strained towards her.

“Uh, did I just die?” Buffy asked.  Her voice, her beautiful voice. His knees quivered and threatened to give out.

“No,” Illyria said in a clipped tone.

“But he’s…Spike’s dead.” Buffy sounded so lost. He wanted to scoop her up and tell her it was okay, but since it was his fault she was still mourning it might not be the best idea. Not that she had anywhere to hide a stake at the moment. Not that he’d mind checking to make sure she wasn’t hiding a stake. Not that he’d mind her helping him hide his stake…

“Of course he is dead. He is a vampire.”

“No, I mean Spike’s dust.”

Spike tried to get his tongue and teeth to cooperate but couldn’t get so much as a word out before Illyria continued: “He was for nineteen days. Then he was a ghost. Now he is corporeal.”

Spike cracked open an eye, only to close it again with a groan at Buffy’s stricken expression.

“He didn’t tell me?” Buffy’s voice trembled and it was nearly enough to kill him all over again.

“I’m sorry, luv,” he mumbled and could feel her gaze land on him.

Her question was barely a whisper: “Why?”

“This bores me,” Illyria snapped.

“Excuse me. And who the hell are you, anyway?” Buffy sounded full of Slayer fire. His traitorous cock twitched at the steel in her voice.

“I am the God, Illyria.”

“Okay, that’s…nice. So what am I doing here?”

“My pet is distracted by thoughts of you when we engage in physical activities.”

Buffy made a strangled noise. Spike risked peeking again. Her fists were balled at her sides and there was murder in her eyes. He caught sight of her swaying tits and quickly returned to the darkness behind his eyelids.

“She means spar,” he hurriedly said, before Buffy could punch Illyria. His fingers twitched. Buffy was jealous. Righteously jealous. Something like real hope bloomed in his chest.

“So again, why am I here?” Buffy demanded.

“Mostly I inflict physical pain on him. He seems to appreciate this.”

Buffy huffed. “He would.”

“When there is enough pain he stops thinking of you.”

Buffy made another strangled sound. He couldn’t bear to look this time.

“He believed you no longer desired him. I find this to be untrue.”  There was a cracking noise that was probably Illyria popping her neck. “I brought you here so that you may mate with him in an amount adequate enough to allow him to concentrate on other matters.”

The room went silent.

“Spike, why are your eyes closed?” Buffy asked after a long, awkward pause.

“Because you’re naked.”

“Oh.”

There was another pause as his mind tried to come up with something to say. What should he do? Shirt. He was wearing a shirt. He could give that to her. “Here, pet, let me give you something to cover up with.”

Illyria sighed. “That does not promote mating. You have both been sufficiently aroused since the female’s arrival to perform copulation.”

Brilliant. Now he knew Buffy was standing there not only naked, but also wet and ready to go. Almost involuntarily he took a deep breath through his nose. He could smell her, the aroma thick and rich as it slid into his lungs. Spike whimpered.

He needed to talk to Buffy. Get everything out in the open. Admit what a bloody coward he was and grovel at her feet for the next three months until he’d apologized enough to be worthy of looking at her face, let alone any other part of her.

“I grow weary of the postponement. I will return your clothing once you have had enough intercourse for this time period.”

The painful pressure on his groin was lessened as his pants and the rest of his kit disappeared. He groaned in relief, then realized he was completely naked in front of Buffy. His jutting cock was pointing at her like a blasted compass needle. He opened his eyes since it was no use pretending he was a proper gentleman any longer. Buffy wasn’t hiding her gaze behind her fingers, or studying the floor. She wasn’t even looking at his face. The chit was unabashedly gawking open-mouthed at his prick.

“Erm...luv…” He had no idea what to say.

Buffy’s brilliant green eyes met his. They stared at each other for a moment, then Buffy was hurtling into his arms. He staggered back against the wall and slid down till his arse met the floor.

It was her.

His Buffy.

She was sobbing and alternating between kissing his face and slapping his shoulders and chest. “I missed you, you idiot. I love you, so much. Oh god, I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated over and over, desperate for her to understand.

Her legs were wrapped about his waist and her slick folds were pressed against his hard-on. It made concentrating on anything else rather difficult.

Spike tangled his hands in her damp hair and tenderly pulled her mouth to his. Her arms went around his neck.

Their lips met softly. A jolt slammed through him at the feel of her mouth against his. He’d never thought he’d have this again. Her taste exploded across his tongue. “Love you, Buffy,” he said against her lips. “Please, love me. I’m sorry. Please.”

His mind was jumbled. The need to apologize, the need for her to understand, the need to know she loved him, the need to tell her he loved her.

The loss of her mouth against his was like a bucket of cold water. “Buffy?”

“Do you mind?” her voice snapped, full of Slayer self-righteousness.

Spike opened his eyes, not remembering having closed them. Illyria was standing about a foot away, watching them like they were a science experiment. “I am curious as to my pet’s ability to-“

“I don’t freaking care!” Buffy snarled. “Thank you for the lift here, but if you want any mating to happen you’re going to have to leave us alone.”

“Go wait for Wes or Angel in the hallway, Illyria,” Spike added.

Illyria screwed up her face. “You are crying,” she said to Buffy. “You are with the one you love, should you not therefore be happy? I do not understand.”

“They’re happy tears!” Buffy breasts were heaving with fury. It made her nipples brush over his chest, which both looked and felt amazing.

“So water leaks from humans’ eyes when they are filled with happiness as well?”

“Oh. My. God. Would you just go away?”

Illyria crossed her arms. “Emotions are very confusing. If both happiness and sadness look the same how can you tell which one someone is feeling? No wonder human society is so disorganized.”

Buffy started wiggling. She brought her legs under her and was trying to turn so that she could glare at Illyria. Her movements positioned her just right to…

“Your vampire will mate with you now.” Illyria waved a hand regally. “As you both seem to have a need to be alone during this process, I will wait outside. When you have mated sufficiently to allow my pet to fight with his mind unhindered, please inform me immediately. I will return your coverings at that time.” Illyria spun on her heel and marched from the training room.

The speech had given him just enough time to have second thoughts. Buffy and he didn’t have to be doing this right this instant. She deserved a bed and they should probably talk about a whole host of things while they had their clothes on. Spike wanted to treat her right, show her he could be a man and not just a…

“Oh, thank god, I thought she was never going to leave.” With a sigh, Buffy hitched and twisted her hips, sinking down until his cock was sheathed entirely inside her.

“Erp,” he managed.

Buffy put a hand on either side of his face and snogged him hard. Her hips began to pivot and Spike’s self-control lasted for all of about two seconds. Beds were overrated.  He lunged forward and rolled Buffy under him, devouring her mouth while pumping frantically in and out of her.

Her hands seemed to be everywhere: running through his hair, sliding over his back, grabbing his ass. The inarticulate noises she was making were the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

Her pussy was steadily clamping down tighter and tighter around his cock. No other feeling in the world could compare. He wanted to slow down, get his fingers to her clit, make it perfect for her, but his body refused to do anything but continue to slam into her. He couldn’t even get the words out to beg her to come for him, since he wasn’t going to last much longer and he wanted her along for the ride.

Blessedly, her thighs started to tremble around his waist.

He set his jaw and tried to make his hips cooperate, to grind just right so her clit would be part of the action.

Buffy’s head snapped back and her body arced up. “Spike!” she yelled. Her legs clamped bruisingly tight about him as her nails left cherished blood trails on his back. “Love you,” he panted against the sweat-slicked skin of her throat.

Her inner muscles were fluttering and pulsing around his prick. He was lost, drowning in the sight, taste, scent, and feel of her. Between his legs his sac started to tighten.

Buffy’s hands dug into his hair and wrenched his head up so he was looking into her eyes. “I love you,” she said.

He was done for.

With a last, deep thrust he came noisily and messily. He was grunting and groaning Buffy’s name loudly as the pleasure ricocheted from his groin around the rest of his body.  His cock jerked hard as he spurted his load inside her in wave after wave of bliss. At last he was left with only the warm glow of completion.

Buffy was lightly stroking the back of his neck and looking somewhat smug.

“You okay?” she asked with a teasing lilt in her voice that he’d never heard aimed at him before.

Christ, it was going to make him cry.

“None of that,” she whispered and swiped at the moisture gathering under his eyes. “Or Illyria will be back in here wondering why you’re making water from your eyes immediately after mating.”

Taking a deep breath, he got himself under control and even chuckled.

“Now…” Buffy clamped her inner muscles down hard around him and his prick immediately returned to full attention. “I don’t feel sufficient. Do you feel sufficient?”

Spike frantically shook his head side-to-side. Illyria was dreaming if she thought he’d ever get enough of Buffy.

She rolled them over so she was astride him, a perfect Goddess.

Maybe Illyria should be in here, to see what a divine being really looked like.

Buffy undulated her hips and he forgot to think.

****

Illyria was staring at a plant, again. Wasn’t someone supposed to be minding her?

Angel scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “Where’s Spike?”

“He remains in the training room.” She leaned closer to one of the plant’s waxy green leaves.

Well, crap, she hadn’t broken Spike and then just left him lying there, had she? “Er, what is he doing in the training room?”

Illyria straightened up and tilted her head to the side. “I became tired of him being distracted, so I brought him the girl he desires. They are mating.” Illyria frowned. “I thought they would have been finished prior to now, but each time they complete the act of copulation, one or the other of them will say ‘I love you’ and then they are again aroused and require further intercourse. It appears to be an endless cycle. Is this normal behavior? If so, how do humans ever get anything done?”

Angel’s brain was desperately trying to make sense of what Illyria was saying.

A girl Spike desired? Copulation?  Saying ‘I love you’…

Oh, no. His eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head.

“Illyria, did you bring Buffy here?”

She’d returned to her perusal of the plant. “That is the female’s name. My pet has been yelling it with some frequency.”

Angel heaved a sigh and rubbed at the headache that was rapidly forming behind his left temple. “Let me get this right: you brought Buffy here and Spike and she have been…copulating, in the training room?”

Illyria nodded absently.

“For how long?”

“Since noon.”

Angel looked at his watch, frowned, and hoped Illyria was mistaken.

“Do you think they will reach an adequate level of sexual satisfaction soon and stop, or do you think I should return sometime tomorrow?” she asked.

Angel’s eyes darted down the hallway to the training room’s door. It had to be his imagination, but he could swear he heard enthusiastic moaning and grunting. “Um, y’know, I think I have paperwork that needs completing. Badly. Now.” He turned and fled back to the elevator, pausing just before he hit the button. “Illyria,” he said over his shoulder. “I think tomorrow will be sufficient.”


End file.
